


Lost and Found

by tridecaphilia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, Episode: s03e03 Fireflies, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 13:44:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tridecaphilia/pseuds/tridecaphilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of "Fireflies," Derek seeks out Stiles. Not established relationship. Pure h/c.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and Found

Stiles got permission from his dad not to go to school the next day—which is to say, he informed his dad he wasn’t going to school at the precise moment when his dad had to leave for work and wouldn’t have time to argue with him. He hadn’t slept, too busy with Lydia and the virgin sacrifices (seriously, virgin sacrifices, things weren’t looking good for Stiles at this point and he caught himself wondering if Scott would be immune before he derailed that train of thought) to even think about it.

But when he got back to his room, he found his long night had just gotten a little longer.

Stiles closed the door quietly, despite he and his unexpected guest being alone in the house now. “So,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “Rough night?”

Derek raised his eyebrows at him, not saying anything yet. Stiles frowned at him. He looked… different than normal, and it wasn’t the blood all over him. That part was sadly typical for Derek.

“Right. Not asking.” Which was slightly less believable than a missionary promising not to ask if you’d accepted Jesus. And sure to be far more annoying when he asked anyway. “Are any of those wounds still open?”

Derek shook his head.

Even for Derek, this was weirdly quiet. “Okay then, um—are you planning on sticking around?”

That got a verbal answer, finally. “I was, yeah.”

“Okay.” Stiles nodded a bit spastically. “Um, so—you going to shower, or something? ‘Cause I think my dad would freak if you got blood everywhere. And maybe arrest you. Again.”

Derek shrugged. And there it was—Stiles knew what was different. Derek didn’t look like his usual self. He looked _lost_.

Stiles swallowed. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do here, but that look wasn’t something he wanted to see anymore. Especially from Derek.

“Okay.” He took a breath. “I’m gonna—get some clothes from my dad’s room, for you to change into. Just—stay there. I’ll be right back.”

His clothes, of course, wouldn’t fit—he’d proven that way back, and while he’d hit a growth spurt, it hadn’t filled out his shoulders at all. But his dad was closer to Derek’s size, so he got some of his jeans and a T-shirt that almost looked like something Derek might wear and handed them to the alpha. “I’ll—leave you alone to change.”

He’d turned away when Derek spoke again. “Stiles.”

Stiles turned before he’d processed why he wanted to, and fought back a flush when he saw that Derek had already taken off his shirt (not that it made much difference because it was already shredded, Jesus, what happened to him? Scott had clearly left some very important details out).

“My sister’s alive,” Derek said. “My little sister.”

Stiles’s mouth opened and closed again with a snap. “That’s good, right?”

Derek shrugged, looking down at the ripped shirt in his hands.

Stiles desperately wanted that look to be gone. So before his common sense could catch up with his impulses, he’d taken the half step back to Derek and leaned up to kiss him. His common sense pulled him back a moment later, but Derek didn’t look upset. Just surprised, and still… lost.

Stiles swallowed. “Put on those pants,” he said. “I’m gonna—just wait here, I’ll get something to clean off the blood.”

It was just down to his tiredness, he told himself as he went to get a washcloth. He kept telling himself that as he soaked it and wrung it out enough not to drip before heading back to his room once more.

Derek was in Sheriff Stilinski’s jeans now, which were too big at the waist but just about the right length. He nodded to the shirt beside him. “Didn’t think your dad would be too pleased if I ruined it with blood,” he said, and Stiles was relieved to note that his old sarcasm was returning now.

Stiles offered a slim smile and came closer. He was wary, but Derek didn’t show any signs of moving. Still blaming his lack of sleep, he washed the blood off of Derek’s face and arms. He stopped before moving the cloth to his chest, because as weird and surreal as this whole situation was he didn’t feel up to testing Derek’s current boundaries quite as much as that would take.

Derek’s hand wrapped around his. Stiles looked up to find those eyes on his and wow, if he’d been uncomfortable with Derek looking lost he was about twice as uncomfortable with Derek looking at him like that.

He didn’t protest, though, as Derek tugged him down and kissed him. It was soft, gentle. Not what he’d expected kissing Derek would be like (not that he’d thought about it, really he hadn’t except on a totally kind of academic level), but then, he hadn’t thought it would be in this kind of situation either (and he totally hadn’t thought about that either). There was something in the kiss that Derek had never (would never) say out loud.

He trusted Stiles.

That made it easier, it almost obliged Stiles to clean off his chest and back when he pulled away. He took the washcloth back to the bathroom and set it to soaking clean, but this time when he came back he wasn’t uncertain anymore. Derek didn’t quite look lost, either, and he was wearing the T-shirt (which wasn’t nearly tight enough for Stiles’ tastes, but any of his would have burst at the seams from those muscles).

“You want to stay here today?” Stiles asked. It was easier to ask now, he thought.

A tiny quirk at the corner of Derek’s mouth might have been a smile. “Yeah.”

Stiles nodded. “Well, I gotta warn you, I didn’t sleep any more than you did last night, so the first thing I’m gonna do is sleep.”

“Bed’s big enough for two,” Derek said easily.

Stiles opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, but found he had no smart comeback for that. “Uh, yeah,” he said at last.

Derek reached out, caught his wrist again. “You okay with this?”

Now, of course, his traitor mouth started talking faster than his brain could censor it. “Dude, am I okay with this, I am more than okay with this, I mean I’d be okay with more if I wasn’t tired enough to pass out, and I… am going to shut up now.”

Derek laughed—he laughed, and it was the best sound Stiles had heard all night. Deciding to shelve the complicated talk for when they woke up, Stiles pulled the covers down and crawled into bed, only stopping to kick off his shoes first. Derek climbed in beside him, and wrapped an arm around his waist.

Stiles fell asleep smiling.


End file.
